


Observations

by SparklingDragonTears



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 150 prompts, Derek is comforting, Ficlet, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, OCD, Secrets, Stiles has Tics, maybe pre-slash, tics, tourettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 04:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklingDragonTears/pseuds/SparklingDragonTears
Summary: Prompt 30: "Why have you been hiding this from us?"In which Derek watches a little too closely and notices Stiles' tics and Stiles breaks down.





	Observations

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my experiences.   
> Everyone tics differently, please no judgement.
> 
> 150 Prompts number 30: "Why have you been hiding this from us?"

Once he’d noticed it, Derek couldn’t un-see it. Sure, Stiles had always been flail-y and manic, but one day as the boy was gesturing, he’d noticed Lydia’s eyes flick from the right to the left and back again, following Stiles’ movements. He’d frowned, watching without listening as Stiles explained something new he’d learned. It was then that he’d first noticed the pattern.

When Stiles gestured, every moment or so, his left shoulder rolled back, smoothly transitioning into whatever he was doing with his hands. Once this happened, the movement repeated on the right, then back to the left before he continued with drawing shapes in the air to aid his explanation. 

“ _Well?_ ” Cut into Derek’s scowling stare. He blinked, focusing back on Stiles’ face. He was clearly waiting for a response, eyebrows raised expectantly. He opened his mouth dumbly, when Lydia rolled her eyes and took pity on him.

“I’m sure Derek agrees that it’s ridiculous to set out a patrol on the preserve,” She said, trying to keep the pointed comment from sounding exactly like what it was. Stiles narrowed his eyes and made to protest, but she continued. “There’s no indication that any threat is actually headed our way. California is a large state and we have allies on the border who would let us know if there was an inkling of danger.”

Stiles frowned and chewed on his lips for a moment, hands twitching like he was trying to figure something out to himself.

“But…” He looked over Derek for backup. “If it’s important enough that the hunters’ circle is talking about it, I really think we should prepare.” 

Derek was trying to catch up on the conversation without admitting that he hadn’t been paying attention. Stiles, quick as he was, crossed his arms and leveled a sharp look at the older man.

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?” He asked, but all Derek could really notice was the flexing of his fingers against his arms. He shook his head, trying to clear the distracting thoughts.

“Sorry…” He muttered, causing both of the teenagers to share a worried glance. He stood and rubbed at his hair awkwardly. “See what Scott has to say, I’ll follow his lead on this one.” He left the two to their own sitting in the middle of his loft, walking away trying to process what he’d seen.

Everyone knew Stiles was twitchy. Was this his usual anxiety? Did he always move so much? Why hadn’t he noticed it before? Did everyone but him know? Did Stiles know?

Derek closed himself in his room, ignoring the confused murmuring downstairs and made mental note, not for the first time, to keep a closer eye on Stiles.

Over the next week, he was certain that he was getting on everyone’s nerves by being zoned out whenever they had any conversations. Stiles had more than once thrown his hands in the air in frustration when Derek couldn’t answer a question about the thing they were literally just talking about. Scott was getting concerned and Lydia kept shooting him warning glances when she noticed him staring.

He had, however, catalogued several observations on the young Stilinski. The boy moved in mesmerizing repetitions. He'd noticed that Stiles ground his teeth, a lot. This often coincided with him running a hand over his mouth while adjusting the position of his lower jaw. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips every few minutes. He drummed his fingers on almost everything, but usually this only followed flexing both hands several times. He cracked his knuckles often, all together, then one finger at a time. Most of his movements were abrupt, his body never seeming to still. It was no wonder he looked like it never slept, the boy was in constant motion. And although most people would describe him as ‘twitchy’, he’d never really noticed the occasional real twitches that spasmed through his muscles when he was sitting, just subtly enough to shake off as a shiver or startle. He tapped his feet, one after another, for long periods of time, and shifted weight back and forth when he was standing.

Derek laid across his couch one afternoon, just staring at the ceiling, contemplating the observations he’d made. He was sure everyone had quirks, himself included. Why were Stiles’ nagging on him? He had an inkling of a thought, but didn’t want to entertain the possibility. 

He heard the rumble of the Jeep engine pulling into the bay several floors below and glanced to the clock. 6 pm. He lay comfortable on the couch, not bothering to move, while listening to Stiles climb the steps up to his door and hesitate only a second before pulling the door open.

“You know,” Derek called, eyes still glued to the ceiling. “Most people at least knock, if not text to let me know they’re coming into my house.” 

Stiles slid the loft door closed and crossed the room. Derek could feel the irritation radiating off him and finally turned to take in the teenager. Stiles stood before him, arms crossed and foot bouncing on his heel, scowl etched into his face.

“I need to talk to you.” He said sharply. Derek sighed and sat up, making room for Stiles on the couch, but he instead stared at Derek for a moment from where he stood. “What’s wrong with you?” He demanded. “Why do you keep watching me?” 

Derek felt the embarrassment creep through him, knowing his ears were turning red. He ran a hand through his hair and noticed that Stiles did the same, clenching his hands to his sides afterward.

“I just…” Derek tried to hold Stiles’ eye gaze, but the boy was looking over him, eyes as restless as his body, assessing the werewolf. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He said softly, not completely the truth, but not a lie. 

Stiles’ eyebrows softened from anger into confusion, a little shift crossing his face as he flexed his jaw. He crossed his arms again, lightly this time, fingers dancing over his flannel sleeves. He tilted his head slightly, Derek ducking his eyes away from the gaze.

“Why do you think I’m not okay?” His voice had relaxed, anger swept away with the concern from Derek. Derek could hear though, that his heartbeat stuttered with nerves. He didn’t know how to answer, he didn’t want to point out what he’d seen and cause Stiles any discomfort.

“You have a lot of nervous energy,” He pointed out, trying not to sound callous. Stiles nodded, but did not respond. “I thought maybe it was anxiety.” The boy let out a small laugh.

“I always have anxiety,” He finally relaxed enough to come flop into the couch next to Derek. He nudged Derek’s knee with his own before settling back against the other arm rest. Derek didn’t look up. “What I mean is, why are you watching now?”

Derek shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his hands together, noticing how Stiles’ legs bounced, one after the other, in a slow pattern. He sighed, knowing Stiles wouldn’t let it go. He figured maybe if he just spat it out, he would get either an answer or Stiles would leave in anger. While he wouldn’t prefer the latter, it was better than whatever anxious purgatory they were currently floating in.

“You move in patterns.” Derek winced slightly, feeling stupid for saying it like a bad poem, but it was most tactful thing he could think to say. Stiles however, stilled for a second, a small sound muffled in his throat. Derek looked over his paling face, sensing some sort of panic filling the boy. “I just wanted to make sure something wasn’t wrong,”

Looking away, Stiles clenched his teeth several times, fingernails scratching against his jeans. He was about to say more when Stiles spoke, small and very unlike himself.

“Did you say anything to anyone?” He asked, stilling his fingers by balling his fists. Derek frowned, scooting closer, resting a hand on Stiles’ knee.

“No, why? What is it?” He was worried, watching Stiles blink heavily, hearing his heart pounding. Stiles was quiet a moment, running his hands through his hair.

“I…” He was clearly struggling with something, and Derek could only guess. “Swear you won’t say anything?” He looked into Derek’s eyes, pleading. Derek nodded solemnly and Stiles sighed. “Isortamighthavetics.” He muttered out quietly, knowing Derek would hear him anyway.

“Tics?” Derek asked after a heavy pause, feeling a tiny bit of guilt having considered this a possibility. “Like… Tourettes?” Stiles shrugged, a tiny twitch passing through his body like a wave.

“I don’t know,” He whispered. “I’ve never told anyone. I’ve done my own research, but I don’t know for sure. Could be some sort of OCD, maybe… Tourette-like symptoms…” He had curled in on himself and Derek couldn’t help but wrap an arm around him and pull him close.

“This doesn’t change anything about you at all.” Derek said decisively. “Why have you been hiding this from us?”

Stiles buried his face in Derek’s chest, shame rolling off of him. The back of his neck was stained with embarrassment and he shrugged again.

“It sucks.” He mumbled into Derek’s shirt. “I can’t control my own damn body. What would they think?” 

Derek lifted a hand and slowly ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair, letting him continue miserably explaining.

“It’s why I’m always talking, always moving, you know…” His voice shook and Derek felt his head twist in a sharp movement to the side before Stiles shoved Derek’s hand away and buried his fingers in his hair. “Better to keep talking than to start and stop out of nowhere.” He mumbled in despair.

Derek could feel Stiles slipping into some desperate hole of self-pity, making his body and voice as small as he could. He slid his hand down Stiles’ neck, resting it softly on the boy’s nape.

“Hey, I promise you, this won’t change anything.” He tried, soothing his thumb over the soft skin there. He was quiet a moment gathering the right words while Stiles shook with a few silent tears. When he finally spoke, he spoke slowly and as gently as he knew how without condescending. “Liam actually breaks bones when he loses control. You’ve seen Erica seize more than once. Scott had asthma walking up his own stairs for years, and Jackson has literally been a puppet to someone else. I would say you’re far from the least in control.” Stiles gave a small huff of a chuckle and sniffled.

“I don’t want them to think less… I can’t be a liability, you guys and my dad are all I have.” He rubbed a fist over his eyes, falling backwards against the couch back, pinning Derek’s warm hand in a sturdy grip against his neck. 

Derek gave a firm, reassuring squeeze, feeling some of Stiles' tension melt away. 

"You're the same you you've always been." Derek stated, the truest fact he'd ever spoken and the assurance in his voice had Stiles give a tiny nod, even though he was still afraid to agree. They sat in silence until Stiles’ heartbeat became more even, Derek’s fingers toying with the hair at Stiles’ neck.

“So…” He started after a while, not knowing whether Stiles wanted advice or to completely ignore the situation. Luckily, Stiles was mostly back to himself and was starting to squirm away from Derek’s hold.

“So…” He echoed. “Yeah.” He rubbed a hand across his jaw, disguising the quick setting movement. “Please don’t, like… tell anyone?” He asked, looking up through his thick eyelashes.

“Of course.” He ran a hand over Stiles’ head and the boy gave him a small smile, standing up and flexing his fingers. He nodded down to Derek, looking around a moment before sighing shakily.

“Thanks, man.” He said honestly. “For real, it’s like a weight off my chest, as terrifying as it is.” Derek stood too, letting Stiles move quickly and pull him into a brief hug. He pulled away with a wink, turned and left without looking back. 

Falling back onto the couch, Derek stared at the ceiling again, missing the twitching warmth as soon as he had moved away. He chose not to think about what that might mean, and finally closed his eyes for a long needed nap to clear his head.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always.
> 
> Till next time,  
> -J X


End file.
